


I'm Not Strong Enough

by QueenGremlin



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Geralt won't take care of himself, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Grief/Mourning, Hurt Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Near Death, No Smut, Not Beta Read, Worried Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Yennefer always knows best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:41:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28857495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenGremlin/pseuds/QueenGremlin
Summary: Jaskier gets hurt and is clinging to a thread of life. Geralt is very worried and even guiltier.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 2
Kudos: 119





	I'm Not Strong Enough

**Author's Note:**

> HI!!
> 
> So basically a friend of mine challenged me to write 2k with no smut. So naturally, I went "No smut? okay near-death instead"
> 
> I hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> Also, I made a Twitter specifically for my writing if anyone is interested. It's @ Gremlin1Queen. If I get enough interest I'll post snippets and take prompts. I also follow back, so give it a look if you'd like.

It shouldn’t have been that close to home. Monsters were never close to Kear Morhen, it was too dangerous and any monster with half a brain knew to stay away, and for some odd reason if a monster made it close enough it was taken care of by someone. Jaskier shouldn’t have gotten hurt, he should have stayed put in his hiding place, but the dumb bard of course rushed to Geralt as soon as he was pinned to try to scare off the cockatrice. Maybe he was trying to distract it so Geralt could gain an advantage, but either way, it was stupid of him. They barely made it to Kear Morhen before Jaskier passed out, he was lucky that Yennefer was already there with Ciri.

“You need to eat,” Ciri said as she entered Geralt’s bedroom. He was beginning to look too thin, and he had dark circles under his eyes. He hadn’t slept much- how could he? Jaskier was hurting and barely hanging onto life itself. He should have been the one to have gotten hurt, his witcher body could have handled it, and most importantly Jaskier would be safe. “Dad, c’mon. You’ve not left his bedside, and Mum said he could very well be out for the rest of winter.”

“If he survives.” His voice was foreign to his own ears. Raspier than usual from lack of use. He stood and stared out the windows most days, he ignored anyone that entered the room and refused to talk to anyone that wasn’t Ciri.

Ciri sighed and Geralt heard her move around the room. He assumed she was adjusting Jaskier to a more comfortable position, but the smell soon after hit Geralt and he turned around to see Ciri redressing Jaskier’s wounds.

Geralt didn’t like looking at them. Jaskier’s wounds. A deep puncture wound at his belly, long angry gashes over his chest. He was bruised to hell and his right eye was swollen. “He looks better,” Ciri said. “A lot better actually.”

Geralt turned back to the window. Jaskier didn’t look better. Those wounds would- should -kill anybody. Geralt was a logical person, he knew the odds, and they weren’t in his favor. “You don’t give him enough credit,” Ciri said and with her tone, Geralt could practically see her scowl. “Jask is a fighter, and he’s stronger than anybody in this entire house. You keep underestimating him, Dad.”

Geralt turned back around to face Ciri. “Look at him,” Geralt motioned to Jaskier. Bandages, pale, and worst of all quiet. “He reeks of death. He looks it too. No matter how bull-headed he is, no human could survive these wounds, hell not many things could.”

Ciri crossed her arms over her chest and looked at Geralt with a fierceness that it could make even the strongest witchers shake in their boots. “You’re stubborn.” She stormed out of the room and had that been a normal argument between the two Geralt would have gone after Ciri and apologized. That of course would because Jaskier would have talked Geralt down and would have called him a “blubbering idiot” and Geralt would sigh and sulk out of the room after Ciri.

There was no blubbering idiot speech this time. It was deafeningly quiet in the room, the only sound that assaulted Geralt’s ears were Jaskier’s slow, weak heartbeat, and shallow breathing. Geralt sunk into the chair next to the bed and picked up Jaskier’s hand bringing it to his mouth. He kissed each of Jaskier’s knuckles. “She better be right,” Geralt whispered. “You better not leave me here alone.”

***

A week had passed with little change. Jaskier still laid eerily still, was still pale, and still had wounds that looked angrier each time his bandage was changed. Geralt still remained in the room, getting thinner, getting stinkier, and looking more and more sleep-deprived minute by minute. Geralt was nose deep in a book about vampire lore when Yennefer welcomed herself into the room to check Jaskier’s bandages.

“You haven’t apologized to Ciri yet,” she said casually as she unwrapped Jaskier’s bandages. Geralt didn’t answer her, and he just kept reading and pretended that Yennefer didn’t exist. He pretended that Jaskier was just sleeping, that they were at the coast, on the beach, Jaskier wasn’t injured- no we was basking in the sun and letting it kiss every inch of his exposed skin, and Geralt well, he was burned alive because he was a white as a snowman (Jaskier would tease him about it). Geralt was reading, ignoring the way the sunburnt him, and the way the book’s pages glared up at him. He was happy.

“Ah,” Yennefer voiced. Just like that Geralt’s daydream was ruined. “We’re still pitying ourselves, I see.”

“Grieving.” Geralt said flatly.

“He’s not dead, and you need to stop treating him like he is. It’s bullocks and you know it.” Yennefer wasn’t the most sympathetic person within the old school, but everyone else tried. Everyone else walked into the room confidently, and Geralt bit their head’s clean off.

“You’re a dolt if you think he’ll pull through this,” Geralt said. He slammed his book shut and walked over to the window that overlooked the courtyard. Ciri and Lambert were sparring in the snow, and Eskel and Vesimir seemed to be betting each other who would win. Ciri would. She’s smart and faster than Lambert. Besides Yennefer trained her and nobody could beat Yennefer. 

“You won’t use that tone with me again,” Yennefer said calmly. “Geralt, if anyone is acting doltish it’s you. If anything, I’m surprised you’ve not thrown the lad a funeral. You refuse to listen.”

“I’ve listened,” Geralt stated. “I also know when someone is about to die.”

“Well by the gods,” Yennefer gasped. “I didn’t know you were a gifted seer. Tell me, do I become the most powerful sorceress of all the lands? Do I become Queen of everything?”

Geralt growled and turned on Yennefer. “Look at him Yen! He’s lifeless! He’s cold! His wounds aren’t healing!” Geralt took a quick stride and he was hovering over the bed again.

“Trust my magic! Trust me.” Yennefer kept her calm and she met Geralt’s heated glare with worried violet eyes. “Jesus Geralt, just fucking trust me for once in your sorry life.”

Geralt felt defeated. The lack of sleep and his energy finally depleted. He collapsed into the chair by the bed and buried his head in his hands. “I can’t do this without him,” he admitted softly. “I’m not strong enough.”

Yennefer sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. “You did it once before him and you did it while he was away, so you’ll do it after him.”

Geralt looked up and leaned back in the chair as sleep weighed down on him. “No,” He sighed. “I can’t. We haven’t spent more than a week apart since he was thirty. That’s ten years we have practically spent every waking moment together.” Geralt’s voice wobbled and tears begged to be free. “I can’t do this without him. My last words to him was calling him a selfish prick. That’s the last thing he heard me call him.”

Yennefer sighed and shifted on the bed slightly leaning over Jaskier’s legs. “You know what he would say?” She asked with a tilted head.

“What?”

“He’d tell you to get over yourself,” Yennefer said. “He’d tell you that you smelled. He’d ridicule the fact you’ve spent the last several weeks in the same clothes. He’d tell you that you’re far too thin to be a witcher. Oh! Of course, he’d eat you alive for not apologizing to Ciri- you and I both know that when it comes to that girl he tends to lose his temper on anyone that hurts her.” Yennefer rattled on.

Geralt chuckled. “He’d slap me for it.” Yennefer nodded.

“You would’ve deserved it too,” Yennefer chuckled. “He’d tell you to stop feeling sorry for yourself because people need you.” Geralt hummed. “He would tell you that he knew you loved him, Geralt. No matter what you said to him before because out of everyone who has ever known you- even me -he was the only one who could truly read you.”

Geralt knew she was right. Yennefer was always right, and Geralt hated that about her. He pushed himself up from his chair, his bones creaked in protest, and his joints ached from the lack of movement for so many weeks. “You’re right. He’d be rather displeased if he woke up to me being-” Geralt waved a hand.

“Disgusting?”

“Sure whatever. Watch him while I’m gone, yeah?”

Geralt’s first priority was a bath. He stood outside the bathing chambers trying to force his legs to move. Gods he was acting pathetic, he knew that, but Jaskier always bathed with him. He always droned on about the witcher school’s bathing chambers, and he was excited to return home this winter for the baths specifically.  _ “I think I’ll bathe for two days, My Love. Imagine it,” _ His voice floated around Geralt almost as if Jaskier was right next to him.  _ “The lotions and oils, warm water giving my aching bones a rest- I’m not getting any young, darling. We must figure out something before next spring.”  _ Jaskier was technically thirty-nine but didn’t look a day over twenty-four- thanks to Yennefer combining their life forces. Still, Jaskier complained of his aging body as if it were aging normally.

Geralt stepped into the bathing chambers and nearly crumbled. Steam coming fresh from the tub, amber wafting through the air mixing with lavender, and another sweet smell that Geralt couldn’t quite identify. It was so inherently Jaskier, so much so if Geralt just closed his eyes he could feel Jaskier swarm around him. His calloused fingers touching his cheek, his strong arms wrapping around his waist pulling him further into the bathing chambers, and his smell invading his personal space.

Geralt went through the motions, undressed and slipped into the tub under Jaskier’s watchful eye, and sighed as the water welcomed his muscles and joints.  _ “How’s the water?” _ It was as if Jaskier was sat right behind him. Geralt took a shaky breath and exhaled.

“Warm, you’re missing out.” Geralt murmured. He could hear Jaskier’s laugh, full, bright, and so warm it caused Geralt to feel impossibly hotter.

_ “Someone’s got to take care of ya.” _

__

Geralt swallowed thickly over the swell in his throat. He could practically feel Jaskier’s nimble fingers working out the tangles in his unbrushed and greasy hair. He wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t cry over the fact he missed Jaskier washing his hair, he wouldn’t cry because he missed the laughter that filled the room, he wouldn’t cry because- well because- a tear slipped over his cheek and over his jaw.

The bath was just long enough for Geralt to let out a few tears and enough to get the grime and dirt of the last few weeks off of him. He dressed in fresh clothes and went to a different room to meditate.

Everything was so hard without Jaskier. Geralt didn’t feel like himself. He didn’t feel like a person much less like a witcher. Geralt sat down in the middle of the room. The silence was far too deafening for him to focus because he was too used to sharing a room with the noisy bard. Too used to Jaskier humming as he read, the scratch of his pen against paper writing lyrics down messily, the same notes plucked out as he worked on whatever new song he had thought of. It was too quiet. Too quiet and too lonely. Geralt took a deep breath. “Play something?” He looked to the corner where Jaskier  _ should _ be sitting. Where he belonged. It was almost as if he was there, lute in lap, legs crossed over one another.

_ “What would you like to hear, My Love?” _

__

“The sad one,” Geralt whispered. “About the coast.”

He could practically see Jaskier’s smile as he plucked out the few chords to begin the song.

In the other room, Yennefer sat where Geralt previously was, some ancient witch’s book in her lap, and her head in her palm as she read. Jaskier was still. Breaths shallow. Somehow he was different, he looked less dead than just a few minutes ago, and with a groan, his eyes opened. “G-Ger-”

Yennefer’s eyes snapped to the bard in front of her. Jaskier’s mouth was moving but no words came out coherently, and he was lifting his arm as if he was reaching for someone. “Jask? Oh, Christ! Jaskier, easy, you’re hurt.”

“Geralt?” Jaskier whispered. Gods his throat hurt.

“He’s coming.” Yennefer nodded. As if on cue the door swung open and Geralt rushed in and fell next to Jaskier’s bedside. “He just woke up.”

“Dandy?” Geralt whispered. Jaskier looked weak, but his eyes were open and on Geralt with that same spark and light still behind them. “Hey, easy now, you’ve been hurt.”

Jaskier’s bottom lip wobbled and his eyes were wide staring at Geralt. “Wha-t?”

“Yeah, you saved me remember?” Geralt gently pushed back Jaskier’s hair and even more gently caressed Jaskier’s bruised cheek. “We were halfway here, and we were attacked by a cockatrice. We’ll talk more about it later, yeah?”

“The magic is working,” Yennefer nodded. “Like I told you it would. I’ll let the others know.”

Once Yennefer was out of the room Geralt let out a sigh of relief. “Fuck,” He rubbed his face and pushed his hair back from his face. Jaskier blinked slowly, sleep clearly hanging onto him in a vice grip, but worry still stayed in his eyes. “Want some water?” Geralt asked as he turned away. Part of it was an excuse to collect himself before Jaskier realized he was crying, and part was because he knew Jaskier would be thirsty.

“You’re,” Jaskier swallowed harshly. “crying?”

Geralt didn’t say anything only helped Jaskier sip the water. Jaskier finished the cup relatively quickly and before Geralt could get him another cup Jaskier was reaching for Geralt’s face. “Was it that bad?” Jaskier asked with a voice that still wasn’t his silky own. Geralt forced more tears away and nodded as he leaned into the warmth of Jaskier’s cold hand.

“I thought I lost you for good,” Geralt said. “I thought I was going to have to do this alone.”

“Afraid you’re stuck with me,” Jaskier murmured. Geralt chuckled and pressed a kiss to Jaskier’s palm. “Apparently it’s going to take more than a-” Jaskier shook his head. “bird to make me leave you, My Love.”

“Good,” Geralt said. “you’re not allowed to leave me or scare me like that ever again.”

Jaskier sighed and winced at the pain spreading through him with every breath. Geralt pushed his fingers through Jaskier’s hair again and leaned forward pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Let’s go to the coast come spring,” Geralt whispered. “Just you and me and the ocean.”

Jaskier chuckled. “Ow,” He mumbled. “Hurts to laugh. I think we should go during summer. Hotter, warm water, and besides you’ll be too ichy from not hunting.”

Geralt nodded. “Deal.”

“‘m tired now,” Jaskier murmured. “’s alright for me to sleep?”

Geralt nodded, “Get some rest.”

For the first time in weeks he felt his body give in, felt the breath he was holding release, and felt the worry that was making him sick leave his stomach. For the first time in weeks he knew that Jaskier was going to be okay and that’s all that really mattered. For the first time in weeks he felt hunger at last.

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter: @ Gremlin1Queen
> 
> Have a nice day, night, evening, morning, etc...


End file.
